"What was it you hoped? what was it you expected, darling?"
Dahlia moaned: "I don't know. I'm blind. I was told to hope. Yesterday
I had my letter, and it told me to hope. He is in the house!"
"Oh, my dear, my love!" cried Rhoda; "come down a minute. See him. It is father's wish. Come only for a minute. Come, to gain time, if there is hope."
"But there was no letter for me this morning, Rhoda. I can't hope. I am lost. He is in the house!"
"Dearest, there was a letter," said Rhoda, doubting that she did well in revealing it.
Dahlia put out her hands dumb for the letter.
"Father opened it, and read it, and keeps it," said Rhoda, clinging tight to the stricken form.
"Then, he is against me? Oh, my letter!" Dahlia wrung her hands.
While they were speaking, their father's voice was heard below calling for Dahlia to descend. He came thrice to the foot of the stairs, and shouted for her.
The third time he uttered a threat that sprang an answer from her bosom in shrieks.